


Searching for the Sun

by orphan_account



Series: Life in the Sun [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Amnesia, Angst, Car Accidents, F/M, Fluff, Memory Loss, Pregnancy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 13:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Suddenly waking in a hospital, John Smith has no memories from the past four years. Who is the strange blonde woman? And why does she insist on calling him 'Doctor'?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can not express enough gratitude to mrsbertucci for her lovely beta work on the original story and the rewrite. Love ya!
> 
> Entire story has been posted at once for your reading/re-reading pleasure

John Smith huffed in frustration and slumped back in his desk chair to rub his aching temples. He had been working on his doctoral dissertation all day and his eyes were now dry and bleary from the strain. It was high time for him to wave the white flag of surrender and quit for the evening. 

He checked the clock on his computer monitor: 1:09 am. Another evening had blown by without him noticing. Or caring. If his studies hadn’t kept him up, his nightmares would have.

An idea for the argument he had made on the fifth page sprang to his mind, and he wheeled his chair closer to his computer. Before he could type out his thoughts, his mobile vibrated harshly on the desktop, disrupting the silence in the flat.   
  


John glanced at the screen and groaned. “Yes, Jack?”   
  


“John!” Jack screamed over the pounding bass in the background. “Where are you?”   
  


John winced as the harsh music pierced through the speaker. “Didn’t I already tell you I was stayin’ in?”   
  


“Aw, c’mon,” Jack whined. “You could make it for last call. Plenty of lovely ladies here.”   
  


“And how many have you given your number to?”   
  


“Nearly all of them.” The noise of the club died down as Jack found a quieter area to talk. “Just thought you might need a break, John.”   
  


“No, ta.”   
  


Even if he had wanted a break, he wouldn’t have gone. Jack’s playboy personality tended to attract hordes of women, but none of them ever gave him a second glance with the smooth-talking American around. Even without Jack, John’s too-large ears and nose coupled with his gruff persona were, apparently, a huge turn-off.   
  


Jack sighed on the other end. “You seemed… lonely, when I talked to you earlier.”   
  


“M’doin’ just fine, Jack,” John insisted, cradling the phone on his shoulder so he could type. “Just have a lot on my plate. This paper won’t write itself.”   
  


“Do you really need a third doctorate? I think two is enough to prove your superiority over us simple folk.”   
  


“Yes. One of us has to advance the human race while you do your best to keep it firmly entrenched in the gutter.”   
  


“Oh, but it’s such a  _ lovely _ gutter.”   
  


John rolled his eyes as he could practically hear the man’s cheeky wink. “M’sure it is.”   
  


“Alright, well if you’re sure?”   
  


“Very. Actually in bed at the mo’,” he lied.   
  


“Right. Ten quid says you’re still at your desk.”   
  


“Don’t party too hard, Jack,” John grumbled, dismissing the correct assumption.   
  


Feminine giggles wafted through the speaker and Jack laughed. “Can’t promise that.”   
  


He heard his friend introduce himself to the newcomers with a cheesy pick-line up before ending the call. He tossed the mobile on his desk and resumed typing, fighting a jaw-cracking yawn.   
  


Jack’s “lonely” comment drifted through his mind. Despite his friend’s concern, John had decided years ago, after a few failed relationships, that he was better off alone. No one seemed to want a grumpy, night-terror riddled man on their arm.   
  


John had always told himself that being alone wasn’t so bad as long as he had his books and research. Being trapped by banal domestics had never appealed to him. He was far happier contemplating the mysteries of the universe than trying to fit into a checklist life of wife then house then kids.   
  


Struggling to keep his eyes open, John finally decided to turn in. There were still ideas for his paper rattling around in his brain, but it would have to wait. Early morning lectures still went on, despite his propensity to work all night long.   
  


His back cracked as he stood and padded to his bedroom. Another yawn assaulted him while he pulled off his jumper and trousers, dumping them unceremoniously on the floor. He switched off his bedside light and slipped under the cold sheets, tossing around a bit before he found a comfortable position. As he finally shut his eyes, John hoped his nightmares would keep themselves at bay and allow him a few hours rest before the next monotonous day dawned.   


~*~

A bright light beamed through his eyelids as John drifted awake. He squeezed them tighter, swearing he had closed the drapes before he’d gone to bed. Grumbling to himself, he tried to roll over to face the darker side of his bedroom, but a painful tug on the back of his hand stopped the motion.   
  


“What in the bloody…” he muttered, blinking rapidly to adjust to the harsh, fluorescent environment.   
  


As soon as his pupils adjusted, John’s eyes widened in alarm.   
  


He was not cocooned in his own sheets. He wasn’t even in his own room. Somehow, he had been transported to a hospital bed and covered head to toe in medical equipment. The sting he had felt was the I.V. line attached to his hand. Startled, he frantically searched his body, noting another I.V. line in his elbow, several wires sticking through the neck of his hideous polyester gown, and a pulse oximeter probe clamped onto one finger. As he took it all in, a cuff on his bicep automatically inflated to take his blood pressure. And he didn't even want to think about the tube that was lodged somewhere nothing should ever be.

  
For a moment, he thought he was caught in a nightmare. But then his nerves screamed in pain all over his body and a repeated stabbing sensation bombarded his leg. He gritted his teeth and glanced down, noting his lower left limb was in some sort of immobilizing device. Each shallow breath he took hammered against his ribs and his skull felt as though it may split in two at any moment.   
  


John groaned and lifted a hand to prod the bandage on his temple. Someone gasped and the sound of footfalls pounded the floor as he became fully conscious.   
  


“Doctor!” a feminine voice cried. “Oh, my God, you’re awake!”   
  


Clenching his fists against another wave of pain, John grunted, “Yes, a doctor might be a good idea— oof!”   
  


His words were cut off as a pair of arms engulfed him and blonde hair whipped his face.   
  


“Oh, m’sorry! Did I hurt you?” she fretted. “I’ll ask for more pain meds.”   
  


The blonde attacker released him, pulling back to look at him with a small smile. He flinched as she trailed her fingers through his beard (Wait,  _ beard _ ?) and sniffled, fighting back the tears quickly filling her caramel-colored eyes. There was something oddly familiar about her, a flicker of déjà vu, but the feeling was gone as quickly as it had appeared.   
  


John blinked rapidly. “I don’t think you did any more damage, no.”   
  


The woman frowned as he removed her hands from his face and looked around the room, utterly bewildered. What had happened? The last thing he remembered was going to bed after a long night of dissertation work. Had he decided to meet up with Jack after all? Was he suffering from alcohol-induced memory loss? And at what point in the night had he been beaten to a bloody pulp?   
  


He refocused his gaze on the woman next to him, troubled by his surroundings. “Are you the nurse? Can you tell me what happened?”   
  


Her lips pursed and her forehead furrowed deeply as she stared at him in confusion. “Nurse? Doctor, you were in an accident. You don’t remember?”   
  


He glanced around the room again, looking for the “Doctor”, but saw no one else. With an equally befuddled expression, he quirked a brow at her. “Did you call me ‘Doctor’? Not a physician, me. Any chance you could get my doctor?”   
  


“What? John, I always call you ‘Doctor’.”   
  


She grabbed his hand, but he quickly yanked it back.   
  


“Oi! Look, who are you? How do you know me?” She gaped and tried to reach for his hand again, but he scooted away from her with a glare. “And would you stop fondlin’ me!”   
  


As his voice neared a shout, a nurse rushed into the room. Once assessing that John and his vital signs were fine, she left to fetch the doctor.   
  


“Ah, Mr. Smith!” the doctor greeted warmly as he stepped into the room. “We’re so happy to see you awake. Head injuries are tricky. We didn’t know if you would be out for days or not. I’m sure Mrs. Smith is relieved to see you up!”   
  


“Be out from what?! Would someone tell me how I got here?” John snapped. “And who in the bloody hell is Mrs. Smith?!”   
  


A startled gasp escaped the blonde and she sat heavily in the chair by his bed. The nurse turned from hanging another bag of IV fluids and placed a comforting hand on the strange woman’s shoulder.   
  


“You don’t know who Mrs. Smith is?” the doctor asked worriedly.   
  


“Unless the ghost of my mother is in this room, then no,” John snarked.   
  


“Doctor? What’s the last thing you remember?” the blonde girl asked, voice barely above a whisper.   
  


It took John several moments to realize she had addressed  _ him _ and not the professional in the room.    
  


He fixed her with a steely gaze. “Why do you keep callin’ me ‘Doctor’? Name’s John,  _ that’s _ the doctor.” He stabbed an angry finger at the real physician. “What’s the matter with you? Who the hell are you?”    
  


She stared at him, the blood draining from her face as her eyes welled with more tears. After opening and closing her mouth several times, searching for words that would not come, she gasped out a sob and muffled her cries with her hand. The movement caused light to bounce off the wedding ring on her finger and her other hand lifted to caress the growing baby bump he had failed to notice.   
  


With a growing sense of dread, John chanced a glance at his own hand; there was a matching band on his finger. His chest suddenly constricted and his vision swam.   
  


The doctor cleared his throat in the growing silence. “Mr. Smith,  _ that’s _ Mrs. Smith.” He pointed to the blonde stranger. “Your wife.” 

John stopped breathing. “What?!”   
  


The woman cried harder, choking on her tears as she fled the room.   
  


The doctor quietly asked the nurse to fetch the neurologist and then took the seat left vacant by his “wife”. “Mr. Smith, this all must seem extremely confusing to you. Let me ask you some questions so that we can decide on the best course of treatment.”   
  


~*~   
  


John finally learned he had been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, unconscious and bloody. Apparently, another car had run a red light and slammed into the driver's side of his beloved blue sedan as he’d crossed an intersection. Upon impact, John’s body recoiled, causing his head to bounce off of the driver’s side window. Besides the head injury, he had a broken tibia and fibula and some bruised ribs. All in all, he was lucky to be alive.   
  


After a series of questions, the neurologist had delivered a bombshell: John appeared to be missing most of his memories of the past four years. It might be temporary with the concussion but, worst case, he could have a form of retrograde amnesia.   
  


John struggled for what felt like hours after the doctor had left, but the last event he could recall was working on his thesis alone in his flat. He had finally given up, settling uncomfortably in his bed and staring at the drivel broadcasting from the telly.   
  


He hadn't seen his mysterious “wife” since she had run from the room. John briefly entertained the idea that someone was playing an elaborate and distasteful practical joke on him. It seemed more reasonable than him being married and expecting a child.   
  


Sitting immobile was quickly driving him barmy, and he nearly wept with relief as he saw Jack poke his head in the room.   
  


“Doc! Oh, thank God.” Jack crossed the room quickly, sweeping worried eyes over the numerous machines and tubes attached to him. “How are you? When Rose called, I came as quick as I could.”   
  


“Did you call me ‘Doc’?” John grumbled as he attempted to sit up straighter. “And who’s Rose?”   
  


Jack blinked. “What do you mean, ‘Who’s Rose’?”   
  


“Is that the nurse?”   
  


“No! Are you alright?”   
  


“Am I alright? Oh yeah, I’m laughin’,” John sneered, patience crumbling. “I only woke up in a hospital bed, no idea how I bloody got here. My leg’s broke, my head hurts, I’m ‘married’,” he made sarcastic air quotes with his fingers, “and, oh yeah, the cherry on top of this bloody sundae of a day — I can’t remember the past four years!”   
  


John took a deep breath as he finished his outburst and slumped back onto his pillow. The world around him was alien and out of control. Any drop of chaos made him feel uneasy and it was practically pouring pandemonium today. He was accustomed to knowing everything, to having the sharpest mind in the room. Now, he was nothing more than an idiotic ape stuck in a hospital bed with no memories. He desperately wanted to snap out of this nightmare and return to his quiet life in his quiet flat where no one bothered him, where he could be comforted by the smell of books and tea.   
  


“You don’t remember the last four years?” Jack’s face fell and he sat in the chair by the bed. He glanced around the room and furrowed his brow. “Where’s Rose?”   
  


“Who’s Rose?!”  John exploded, slamming a fist on the bed.    
  


“Ok, ok, sorry.” Jack raised his hands in apology. “She’s your wife, Doc. Beautiful, pregnant blonde? Ring any bells?”   
  


“Ah. Mystery blonde has a name.”   
  


“Mystery blonde? She was here? Where’d she go?”   
  


“Dunno. She left the room cryin’ hours ago.”   
  


“Crying?!”   
  


“I guess me not rememberin’ her was upsettin’.” John ran a hand through his close-cropped hair in exasperation. This day needed to start making sense  _ very _ soon.    
  


“You  _ guess _ it was upsetting?! She’s pregnant, you prat!” Jack exclaimed.    
  


“I saw that, thanks!” John growled, annoyed by the insult when he had no memories. “What in the bloody hell is goin’ on? I could do with a bit of a fill-in, seein’ as the last thing I remember I was  single and not about to become a bloody father!”    
  


“Sorry, sorry. You’re right.” Jack sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Well, you met Rose four years ago, not long after you finished your third dissertation.”   
  


John listened intently as Jack launched into an overview of the missing pieces. But he became more and more confused the longer Jack talked. It was as if his friend was paraphrasing a cheesy romance book or movie.   
  


Apparently, he had met Rose shortly before receiving his third doctorate — while shopping. He  _ never _ went shopping. After only nine months of dating, he had proposed to her. As absurd as an engagement sounded, what followed was an even more preposterous tale of him living a sappy, domestic life with his wife — a life he had never envisioned happening, not in a million years. And then, the pinnacle of domestic, they had started trying for a baby about a year ago.    
  


The only fact that made an ounce of sense was that he was a university professor now. Otherwise, there was absolutely nothing about the life Jack had described that he could relate to.   
  


Something was missing. Was he still dreaming? Had he been abducted by aliens?   
  


John rubbed his eyes, beyond baffled. “This seriously can’t be happenin’.”   
  


“I’m sorry, Doc,” Jack apologized. “I can’t imagine how weird this must be for you.”   
  


“Why on earth are you callin’ me ‘Doc’?”   
  


“Rose has always called you ‘Doctor’. I thought it was cute.”   
  


“I don’t like it,” John muttered.   
  


“I know.”   
  


“M’not a cartoon rabbit.”   
  


“I know.” Jack smiled slightly, hoping to add levity to the stressful situation.   
  


“I just… I don’t understand!” John huffed and attempted to fold his arms tightly across his chest, but he winced as the movement hurt his already battered ribs. “Not exactly Mr. White Picket Fence, me. You’ve known me for twenty years. I never wanted any of this marriage and babies rubbish!”   
  


Movement by the door caught their attention and John locked gazes with Rose. She had returned and, judging by her distraught expression, had caught at least the last bit of the conversation. Despite the fact that he knew nothing about her, he felt a brief spike of guilt, disliking the frown on her face. It looked wrong.   
  


“Rosie!” Jack beamed and stood to cross the room, gathering her in a tight hug.   
  


A tidal wave of possessiveness rolled through John as the charming man touched Rose. There was no logical reason for the reaction he was having, but he found himself compelled to reprimand his best friend. He narrowed his eyes and bit back the reflexive growl swimming up his throat.   
  


But then Jack pulled back and relocated his hands to Rose’s face, cradling her tenderly and whispering words of comfort.   
  


“Oi!” John shouted. “Hands off the blonde!”   
  


Instant silence swept the room, and Jack and Rose whipped their heads around to stare at him.   
  


Every muscle in John’s body froze and his eyes widened in shock. He had no idea why he had yelled those words, why he suddenly felt the primal need to claim this woman as  his when he had only just met her a few hours ago. It was terrifying and his panic only increased as his gaze fell to her bulging belly. John pulled in a large gulp of air as his heart started to race, wondering when this rollercoaster of foreign emotion was going to end.    
  


A tentative smile appeared on Rose's face. “Doctor?”   
  


“No. No, no, no,” John chanted, forcefully shaking his head. “Stop callin’ me ‘Doctor’! M’not your husband, and that’s  not my baby! This is not happenin’! You’re both barmy, and this is all wrong and I—”    
  


He paused, taking in Rose’s frightened expression as she protectively clutched her belly. Another peculiar stab of shame pierced his gut and John’s tenuous composure fracture into a million tiny pieces.   
  


“I have to go,” he blurted, frantically flinging the covers off his body.   
  


Jack and Rose rushed forward, but he barely registered their attempt to stop him. As he lost control of his breathing, John succumbed to a surge of dizziness and his vision blurred. He collapsed on the cold, tile floor, welcoming the familiar darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Monitors blared overhead as John struggled to breathe.    
  


“John, look at me.”   
  


He fixated on the blonde woman’s caramel eyes, crouched down beside his slumped form.    
  


“Breathe in through your nose,” she instructed calmly. “One… two… three…”   
  


He shakily drew air in his chest while she counted.   
  


The blonde smiled reassuringly. “Good. Breathe out through your mouth. One… two… three…”   
  


The spinning in his head slowed down as his breathing normalized. New voices entered the room but he paid them no mind, preferring to keep his attention on the stranger by his side.   
  


“Ma’am, we’ll take it from here.”   
  


A pair of hands helped the pregnant blonde off the floor. John blinked as she was taken away and focused on the world around him.   
  


He was on the floor, bare bum in the air where his gown had gaped open. At the far corner, Jack and Rose stood out of the way of several nurses in the room. Since he hadn’t hurt himself, the nurses carefully assisted him back into bed, silencing the alarms as they worked. The wires he had pulled on his fall were reattached to the appropriate monitors, and then his nurse performed a complete head to toe assessment. Finding nothing amiss, she left to inform the doctor of his fall.   
  


As soon as John was resting comfortably, Jack glanced at his watch and cursed. “I’m late for work. Sorry, John, I gotta go. I’ll be back later though, yeah?”   
  


“Yeah, alright.” John gave a brusque nod and tucked the sheets tighter under his legs, embarrassed and annoyed that everyone had seen his bare arse.   
  


“Rosie, call me if you need anything.  _ Anything _ . Alright?” Jack rubbed Rose’s shoulders in comfort and met her eye, gauging her well-being. She smiled slightly and Jack kissed her forehead before leaving the room.    
  


The same strange feeling of covetousness rose up in John’s throat, but he worked harder to fight it down this time.   
  


Rose took a deep breath and sat in the chair by his bed, fidgeting with her wedding ring. John stared at his own ring with a scowl. Needing one thing in his life to return to normal, he tugged it off and presented it to her.   
  


“Here. Could you take this?” She sat motionless, staring at the ring pinched between his fingers. “I just… I can’t deal with it right now. Please, take it.” He felt like a huge git, but he meant it — too much was happening and he didn’t want to spiral out of control again.   
  


Blinking back tears and avoiding his eyeline, Rose took the silver band. Instead of tucking it into her pocket or purse, she slid it onto her thumb and lovingly brushed her fingers along the metal.   
  


Silence settled heavily between them. John could usually talk for all of London, but he had no idea what to say to this woman. The logical part of him was working through the evidence of the day, all of the data pointing to a life where he was happy, in love, and expecting a tiny little bundle of joy. But the right-side of his brain was fighting it. He didn’t feel anything. It was like some sort of bizarre time travel. His entire life —- without his consent — had fast forwarded before he’d been allowed to watch a single moment.   
  


John glanced at Rose from the corner of his eye, catching her doing the same. She seemed to be at a loss for words, too.   
  


Physics, he knew. Space, he knew. But a gorgeous blonde woman that loved him enough to marry him? With a baby on the way?  _ That _ was baffling.   
  


Rose cleared her throat and fidgeted in the chair. “M’sorry I ran out earlier.”   
  


“No worries.” John gulped, figuring he should probably get to know her. He was responsible for her  _ condition _ , after all. “So… what’s your last name?”    
  


“Smi—” She cut herself off and sighed. “Tyler. Rose Marion Tyler.”   
  


“Rose Marion Tyler,” he repeated, hoping the words would trigger a memory. But nothing came. “Jack said we met at Henrick’s?”   
  


A small grin tugged the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, I used to work there.”   
  


“And what was I doin’ there?”   
  


“Oh, you know, shoppin’ and knockin’ over displays. Same as the rest of us.” 

 

She giggled and met his eye. Something fluttered in his belly at the delightful sound. But her face fell and her laughter stopped as he failed to join in.   
  


“Prone to panic attacks, me. Sorry for fallin’ down and barin’ my arse to the world,” he joked, attempting to hear her laugh again. He internally rejoiced as her soft grin made a second appearance.

  
“I know about the panic attacks.” She tucked her hair behind an ear and frowned. “You haven’t had one in years, though.”   
  


“Really? Huh.”   
  


That was a surprise but everything was a shock today — especially the bump staring ominously at him.   
  


“So...um,” John waved a nervous hand in the direction of Rose’s tummy. “How’s the… baby?”   
  


“Good, yeah. Perfectly healthy.” Rubbing a palm over the swell, Rose beamed and he found himself cautiously smiling back. “I was on my way to the anatomy screenin’ when you had your… accident.” She paused to swallow and her smile vanished. “When you didn’t show, I figured you had gotten stuck at work.”   
  


“At work at the University?” he asked, repeating the information Jack had provided him.   
  


“Yeah, you teach physics. And do a  _ ton _ of research. You go on and on about it.” She bit her lip and stared at her stomach. “M’sorry this is all new for you. Not quite sure how to act around you now.”    
  


“M’sorry I don’t remember you.”   
  


“It’s hardly your fault.”   
  


Wanting to comfort him, Rose started to reach for his hand but drew back to chew on her thumbnail instead. Judging by the callous on her opposite thumb, it was her nervous tick.    
  


He didn’t have a logical reason to want to know her, but she was beautiful and kind. She had patiently coached him through his panic attack, and it hadn’t shocked her or scared her away. She spoke of his university job with pride, not aversion. If he really did do as much research as she had claimed, he probably bored her to death on a daily basis with all of the technical details of his discoveries. He had yet to meet a person who could withstand a conversation with him about the cosmos — but Rose was still here.   
  


“I’d like to remember you,” John admitted, startled by the truth of the statement. His heart stuttered when Rose smiled at him again.   
  


“Not quite sure where to start.” She dug around in her front pocket and pulled out a mobile. “But I can show you some pictures? If you want?”   
  


“Yeah, alright.”   
  


Rose proceeded to share the photos on her mobile’s camera, explaining each one. John tried, he really did, but none of the images triggered a memory. There were a ton of the two of them grinning like idiots and even a fair amount with Jack as the third wheel. His ears burned when she quickly flicked past a few where they were kissing to a photo of Jackie, his mother-in-law.   
  


As the camera roll cycled to a snapshot on their wedding day, Rose started crying. The screen froze on a candid shot of the two of them taken during a private moment. Neither of them were looking at the photographer and the John in the photo looked sickeningly besotted as he gazed at his bride. He’d never seen himself look like that. But the best part of the image was Rose’s smile — it was the most radiantly beautiful expression he had ever seen.   
  


John relocated his gaze from the Rose in the photo to the one beside him, hoping she’d stop sniffling and grin as brightly as she had that day.   
  


She turned the screen off and tucked the mobile back in her pocket. “Sorry, this is probably a bit much all at once.”   
  


“For me or you?” he softly asked.   
  


Rose didn’t answer the question. Instead, she dabbed her eyes with her shirtsleeve and took a deep breath, schooling her features into a more confident expression. “Guess we’ll just do this one day at a time, yeah?”   
  


“Yeah, guess so.” John rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing how to reassure her that everything was going to be alright. Because he was sure it  _ wasn’t _ .    
  


“I’ll try and fill you in on everything you’ve forgotten. For as long as it takes.”   
  


Startled, he flicked his gaze from her belly to her eyes, wondering how she was going to tolerate his presence. The few girlfriends he’d had in the past eventually left him for greener pastures, becoming annoyed by his abrasive nature and lack of social grace. For reasons he could not fathom, Rose had not only stuck by him but married him. Would she keep enduring him if he never remembered her?   
  


“And what if ‘for as long as it takes’ turns out to be forever?” John fretted.   
  


Rose shrugged. “Then I s’pose we’ll just have to get to know one another all over again.”   
  


“You’d do that for me?” he asked, incredulous. “Why?”   
  


“Because I love you.”   
  


His heart skipped a beat or two. He hadn’t heard anyone say they loved him since his family had passed away.   
  


Rose cautiously reached for his hand again and, with him accepting her palm this time, timidly threaded their fingers together. A smile lit up her face and he returned it, feeling grounded for the first time that day.   
  


~*~   
  


The broken leg kept John in the hospital longer than he would have liked. His bones were misaligned and badly splintered, requiring corrective surgery. Other than a loss of consciousness for a few hours and memory problems, the CT scans had revealed his brain was fine.   
  


As soon as he had been moved out of ICU, Rose had refused to leave his side, spending the nights with him on the cramped couch in the new room. He hadn't admitted it out loud, but John liked having her there. She had become a stable point in his new (or old?) life and he would have gone stir-crazy without her.   
  


Rose had done her best to teach him about their life together, but he had been too tired from the pain and medications to latch on to anything. He had become alarmed several times when he had forgotten details she had just told him. The doctors had assured him it was normal, that a brain injury could sometimes affect the formations of new memories. John had become discouraged when he’d learned that, assuming he would never remember anything.    
  


Jackie Tyler, Rose's mum, had visited shortly after his surgery. After fussing over Rose's sleeping arrangements, she had turned the telly to  _ EastEnders _ and filled the room with noise and inane gossip from the Estates. John had quietly asked the nurse for extra pain medicine, but Jackie had heard and threatened to slap him again. Since he couldn't recall her slapping him the first time, he hadn't been sure if she was serious. But it sent Rose into a fit of giggles so he had decided Jackie could smack him all she liked if the result was Rose's musical laughter.   
  


Before he knew it, a week had passed and he was being discharged from the hospital with new crutches and a copy of his physical therapy schedule.   
  


As Rose drove them home, John stared at the passing scenery. The world around him had never seemed so daunting. He felt like a newborn, fumbling around and discovering the shiny new landscape. But it wasn't new. He was supposed to  know the basics of his life. What would happen if he bumped into someone he was supposed to know? What did his bedroom look like now? Had his wardrobe changed? Did he suddenly like pears?    
  


After Rose parked the car, she helped him out and then he hobbled along beside her. He leaned against the wall as she fumbled with the keys, peeking at her from the corner of his eye.   
  


Having Rose in the same hospital room with him hadn’t been too jarring. Nurses and doctors flitted in and out so often that they hadn’t actually been alone much. But now he was home. Mercifully, he still lived in the same flat. But it was  their flat now. It was domestic and intimate… and completely terrifying.    
  


Did she cook? What sort of programs did they watch together? What side of the bed did she sleep on? Did she sing in the shower? Would she walk around naked?   
  


Ears burning, John cleared his throat and steered his brain towards idle conversation. “So, when do you have to go back to work?”   
  


“In a few days, but that’s only for a few hours to train my replacement.” She opened the door and ushered him inside. “I decided to go ahead and put in my notice, since you’ll need my help.”   
  


“You’re quittin’?”   
  


She shrugged and dropped her purse and keys on a nearby table. “I was goin’ to be a stay at home mum anyway so… might as well start now.”   
  


“Oh, alright then. Thanks.”   
  


“S’not a problem.”   
  


“So you’re quittin’ Henrick’s? No, you said you left there.” He frowned, trying to recall the simple detail of her life.   
  


Rose patiently waited for him to remember on his own, but he shook his head and looked to her for the answer. “I work with you at the university. Receptionist for a lovely woman named Donna Noble.”   
  


“Right. Sorry.”   
  


“S’ok. You’ll get it all eventually.” She smiled reassuringly at him, rubbing a palm on her stomach. “Think I’ll make a cuppa. D’you want one?”   
  


“Sounds good. I’m goin’ to have a bit of a wander.” John scanned the entryway, already seeing pictures that hadn’t been there before. “Guess I need to see what’s changed.”   
  


“Ok, sure.” She chewed nervously on her thumbnail. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Shout if you need me, yeah?”   
  


Nodding once, he lumbered down the hall and immediately noticed a new kitchen table. That wasn’t so bad and would be a nice change from eating on the sofa. The furniture in the living room was the same, but the couch was covered in throw pillows and blankets he hadn’t had before. His desk and bookshelf had been relocated next to his favorite armchair along with a new reading lamp.   
  


He turned towards the bedrooms, daring to only sneak a peek at his bed; it was enough to catch a pink pillow beside his. Swallowing heavily, he braced himself for what was behind the door to what had been his office. He took one look at the crib and turned right back around.   
  


John returned to the living room and plopped himself on the sofa. Exhaling shakily, he started to take deep breaths, hoping he wouldn’t panic again. The changes hadn’t felt real in the hospital, but now they were tangible and staring him in the face. His entire flat, his entire life, had been rearranged and shuffled as if no one had bothered to ask for his input.   
  


Needing something mundane to distract him, John grabbed the television remote off the coffee table.   
  


“Want to watch a film?”   
  


He jumped at Rose’s voice in his ear. Smiling tightly, she handed him his mug and sat on the opposite end of the sofa.   
  


“S’pose, yeah, if you want.” He passed her the controller and took a sip of his tea; it was made just how he liked it.   
  


He breathed in the aroma of his beverage, comforted by the familiar smell. But he felt odd, like something was missing. If he had a book in his lap, it would have been like any other evening he had spent in this flat. But it wasn’t a book he wanted now and he struggled to figure out what it was.   
  


John glanced at Rose, trying to piece together the puzzle. No memories had surfaced yet, but he did find himself reacting strangely, as though there was a bizarre muscle memory built into his body now. On more than one occasion, he had found himself reaching for Rose’s hand without thinking or smiling simply because she was smiling. He walked alarmingly close to her, considering she was basically a stranger. He also still experienced that ludicrous surge of jealousy anytime Jack touched her. Every now and then, his fingers itched to caress her growing stomach, but there was no sentiment behind the tender action. It was all unsettling.   
  


Rose hadn’t demanded any affection from him, for which he was eternally grateful. He wasn’t sure if he could handle a woman suddenly draping herself all over him. It was tough enough to wrap his brain around the fact that he was going to be a father. How was he supposed to do that? He was a rubbish human being and would probably make an equally rubbish father. How was he supposed to make a child feel wanted when he didn’t remember wanting the child in the first place?   
  


The bump stared ominously at him from the corner of his eye as Rose absentmindedly stroked it. At least he knew she would love this child. It was easy to see she was a naturally warm and caring person. He just hoped he would be able to help her. The last thing he would want was to be an absent dad, even if he had never desired kids.   
  


“Thank you,” John blurted.   
  


Rose muted the telly. “For what?”   
  


“For just... bein’ here? I dunno.” He shrugged. “I’m scared I won’t ever remember anythin’. What do I do then? What will you do?”   
  


“Doc-John, m’not goin’ anywhere.” She set her mug down and turned to him. “I meant it when I said we could get to know each other all over again. We’re  _ married _ . And I know that sounds daft to you but… in sickness and in health, yeah? I love you. I made a vow for a reason.”    
  


Hearing her words of love was comforting, even though he couldn’t return the sentiment. But, if he had learned anything over the past week, he had learned that Rose was fiercely devoted to him. He allowed himself to relax, knowing she wasn’t going anywhere.   
  


Despite his entire life being knocked off balance and the terrifying prospect of raising a child, at least he had Rose. If he never remembered their beginning, at least he had the future — a future that could start at this moment, with a woman who provided light in the dark.   
  


Giving in to the impulse, John reached over and gently pried her thumb from her teeth. The missing piece he had felt when he had sat on the sofa slotted into place as he threaded their fingers together.   
  


“This alright?” he timidly asked.   
  


Rose nodded, elated. “Yeah, this is always alright.”   
  


“Well then, Rose - Mrs. Smith - I just have one question: Why do you call me “Doctor”?”   
  


“You told me that was your name when we first met.”   
  


“I did?”   
  


She bit her lip on a grin. “Yeah, you’re a plum.”   
  


“Oi! D’you mind? Gettin’ to know me wife here.”   
  


A daft grin stretched across his face as she giggled. “Is it alright to call you ‘Doctor’ then? Sorta used to it.”   
  


“Well, I do have three doctorates. Genius, me.”   
  


“Of course you are,  _ Doctor _ ,” she teased. “Always tryin’ to be impressive.”    
  


He squeezed her hand. “It seemed to work on you.”   
  


“Yeah, it did.”   
  


John’s stomach flipped as her smile widened and her tongue poked out to curl around her teeth. She beamed at him, filling him with a warmth he hadn’t felt in ages. Gently, he tugged on her hand until she snuggled comfortably against his side. Her cheeks pinkened adorably as she cautiously rested her head on his shoulder and let out a happy sigh.   
  


He gazed down at her as she watched the telly, desperately hoping he would remember her.


	3. Chapter 3

John and Rose had mutually agreed not to share a bed. He was uncomfortable with more than holding her hand, even though the baby bump was evidence of him having been much closer to her. After Rose had put up a fuss, worried about his broken leg, John had insisted she take the bed and he’d take the couch.   
  


The following day, his first full day back at the flat, John lumbered to the kitchen to make his morning cuppa. He opened the cabinet by the fridge, frowning in confusion as he found no tea bags or sugar. Muttering grumpily, he yanked on the knob of the next door, but no tea was hidden there either.   
  


“Bloody hell.” John pulled on random drawers, knocking utensils to the floor as he rifled through the contents. The longer he searched his own kitchen for a simple tea bag, the angrier he became.   
  


“Doctor? Are you alright?” Rose poked her head in the door and raised a brow at the mess.   
  


“Where’s the bloody tea?!” he snapped, slamming a drawer shut and slapping his palms on the counter.   
  


Swallowing nervously at his outburst, Rose cinched her dressing gown tighter around her waist and tiptoed across the floor. She opened the cupboard above the kettle and produced the necessary mugs and supplies.   
  


“I thought it was more convenient here, so…” She trailed off, biting her lip and wrapping her arms around herself.   
  


“Oh,” he lowered his voice and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like a bastard as Rose protectively hugged her body. It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t remember the layout of his own kitchen. “I used to keep it by the fridge.”   
  


“Think I changed that the first week.” She huffed a laugh and timidly met his eye.   
  


He smiled softly and balanced on a crutch as he filled the kettle in the sink. “I like it.”   
  


“Yeah?”   
  


“Yeah. M’sorry for yellin’.”   
  


“S’ok.” Rose opened the fridge and pulled out the ingredients for a full fry-up. “Hope you’re hungry cause I could eat everything we got.”   
  


He settled against the counter and watched her pull pans onto the stove, working around his kitchen with an ease he had never mastered. “I could eat.”   
  


“Fantastic!”   
  


Unable to help himself, John continued to stare at her as she fried sausages, oddly mesmerized by the way her hips shifted back and forth. His eyes trailed down her bare calves to her feet, amused as she tapped her toes to a silent song.   
  


He jumped when the kettle beeped behind him and immediately chastised himself for his lewd behavior.   
  


Awkwardly clearing his throat, John filled his mug, catching sight of a few pears in a gift basket from an unknown well-wisher. The grainy fruit hadn’t held much appeal before, but it seemed like everything in his life was turned on its head. Curious, he snatched a piece and took a large bite.   
  


He immediately coughed and gagged, spitting a slimy, half-chewed glob onto the counter.   
  


“Are you alright?” Rose turned from the stove and patted his back in concern.   
  


He flinched as her hand touched him and skittered away, hacking more bits onto the granite. “Yes, fine. Tried a pear.”   
  


Her forehead wrinkled. “Why on earth would you do that? You hate pears.”   
  


“Thought maybe that had changed, too. Nice to know I haven’t gone completely barmy!”   
  


As he dug around his mouth, scraping out more bits of the revolting fruit, he heard Rose’s muffled laughter. He turned around with his finger firmly shoved against the inside of his cheek, quirking a brow at her.   
  


“Wha?” he muttered around the digit.   
  


She bit her lip, attempting to smother another chuckle. But she couldn’t contain herself and suddenly burst into a giggle fit, doubling over and bracing herself on her knees.   
  


He pulled his finger out and wiped it on his shirt. “What? What’s so funny?”   
  


Still laughing loudly, filling the kitchen with the musical sound, Rose straightened and dabbed the moisture from her eyes. “You.” She breathed deep, calming after a few final snickers. “M’sorry. Didn’t mean to laugh. But your face!”   
  


He smiled and crossed his arms, attempting to look cross. “Does my pain amuse you?”   
  


“S’just a pear!”   
  


“It’s revoltin’, grainy, and bloody soppin’ wet. Sorry excuse for a fruit, it is.”   
  


She shook her head and smiled. “You’re completely daft.”   
  


“Are you sayin’ you like pears, Rose?” he asked, enjoying the banter. “Don’t know if I should associate with pear-enthusiasts.”   
  


She giggled again and her tongue curled around her tooth on a smile. Just as it had the previous night, the small movement forced his eyes to zero in on her lips and his heart rate to tick up a few notches.   
  


A timer on the stove dinged and Rose turned around to switch off the burner. As she plated the delicious smelling breakfast, John felt a peace settle over him that he hadn’t felt since before his family had died.   
  


~*~   
  


John spent the next few days occupied with his lesson plans and familiarizing himself with his own material. A substitute had taken over for him at the university until he was recovered, but John didn’t want to be unprepared if he had to go back to work without his memories.   
  


He also whittled away the hours by observing Rose. No matter how hard he fought the impulse, he couldn’t stop staring at her when she wasn’t looking. To say she was beautiful would have been an understatement; he had no idea what a gorgeous woman like her saw in him. Nonetheless, she was adorable and amusing to watch. She had a habit of curling on the sofa with a cup of tea and licking her lips after each sip. Every time the small bit of tongue appeared, John felt a nearly uncontrollable desire to swaddle her in his arms and sample the tea on her mouth for himself.   
  


They watched a bit of telly each evening before bed and, just as she had the first night, Rose had cuddled against his side and held his hand. He liked the hand-holding — it was comforting and never failed to cause a ridiculously daft grin to stretch across his face. No one had ever wanted to thread their fingers through his like this before. It felt like an unconscious signal that said, “Don’t go anywhere. Stay here forever.”   
  


Even though he had known her for less than two weeks, he didn’t want her to go anywhere either.   
  


When Rose wasn’t sleeping or helping him around the house, she was in the nursery preparing for the baby. She always shut the door, knowing intuitively that the room gave him anxiety. He tried to ignore her bump, but it seemed to grow bigger by the day, filling the entire flat with its presence. Whether he was ready for it or not, a baby  was coming, and he didn’t know how to handle the sudden pressure.    
  


In between meals and exercise therapy, Rose put together presentations for him on her tablet to help him put the missing pieces together. After earning three doctorates, John was no stranger to being a student. But he didn’t enjoy the material when it covered his own life.   
  


He was sitting at the kitchen table, eyes glued to the screen as Rose flicked through her current lesson:   _ People 101: Who you know but you don’t know you know _ .  As she ended the tenth slide and he still struggled to connect names to faces, John became irritable.    
  


“Who’s the ginger?” He scowled at the tempestuous looking woman on the next screen.   
  


“This is Donna! She’s my boss.” Rose smiled brightly. “You’ll love her. She calls you ‘Spaceman’.”   
  


“Why on earth would I like a woman that calls me a ridiculous name?” With an angry frown, John slumped back in his chair, folding his arms as tightly across his chest as possible without re-injuring himself. “Maybe I’ll call her ‘Earthgirl’. See how she likes it. Better yet, might as well call every woman ‘Earthgirl’ and every man ‘Earthboy’. Easier than tryin’ to remember their names. I’ll probably conk my head again and forget it all anyway.”   
  


“Don’t say that.” Rose chewed on her thumbnail, agitated by the mention of his near-fatal accident. “M’sorry this is annoyin’ you but you can’t walk down the street without knowin’ who’s a stranger and who isn’t. You already know me. I mean, you know you  _ should _ know me but you don’t really…” She paused and creased her brow in frustration. “Blimey, this is confusin’!”    
  


“Welcome to my world,” he bitterly grumbled.   
  


John immediately regretted his lack of patience as Rose’s face fell and she gingerly set the tablet down. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive. Just tryin’ to help.”   
  


“Maybe I don’t need to know these people. Maybe I don’t even  like them. They probably loathe me, and why wouldn’t they? I’m a stupid, bloody ape,” he snapped and pushed from the table, muttering obscenities as he lifted himself onto his crutches and limped away. 

 

Tea would help. Someone had once told him tea was the cure for everything, but he couldn’t recall who that was. At least he remembered where the blasted tea was in his own damn flat now. If only he could have one spark of recognition of the people he was supposed to know. Bloody useless, he was. To suddenly not be the smartest person in the room, to have no answers, was embarrassing and unpleasant. And when he felt off-balance and disturbed, he tended to lash out. And he had lashed out at Rose, the one person on this planet who seemed to have the patience to deal with him.   
  


He sighed. Rose really was doing everything she could to help him. Any sane person would have run for the hills by now. Perhaps he should apologize; this couldn’t be easy for her either.   
  


John finished stirring sugar into his tea and then set the spoon down, blinking in confusion at the mugs on the counter. Without realizing it, he had made two.   
  


“Doctor? D’ya need help?” asked a quiet voice from the doorway.   
  


John glanced sheepishly at Rose, feeling like the biggest git in the world as he caught her chewing nervously on her bottom lip.   
  


“No, all set.” He rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. “I seem to have made two mugs.”   
  


“What’s in the other one?”   
  


“I think I added a sugar and splash of milk.”   
  


Rose huffed a tiny laugh. “Yeah, that’s mine then.”   
  


“Oh.” He stared at the mug then turned back to her with a shrug. “Guess I remembered without rememberin’.”   
  


With a shrug of her own, Rose scooped both cups into her hands so he could follow her back to the table on his crutches. As he sat down, she slid his mug across the wood for him and then brought her own to her mouth for a tentative taste. John watched for her usual post-sip lip swipe, smiling to himself as her tongue poked out on schedule.   
  


“This is perfect,” she praised, lifting her pink mug for another gulp.   
  


He did grin this time after her second tongue-wipe. “Sorry for losin’ my temper. M’sure Donna and everyone else are very nice people.”   
  


“Actually, you reacted pretty much the same when you first met Donna.” She graced him with a smile, and he breathed in relief to see his anger hadn’t done any permanent damage.   
  


“And she’s my friend now?” He scratched his cheek in thought, getting his fingernails caught in the scruff. “By the way, when did I decide to grow a beard?”   
  


“Um…” A blush stained her cheeks as she paused. “You kept it after I said it was sexy.”   
  


He stared at her for several moments. “Guess I’ll keep it then.”   
  


The red-tinge deepened and Rose ducked her head, grinning like mad into her cup of tea. After a few shy moments, her eyes flitted to his over the rim. Feeling bold, he threw her a wink like they were a couple of teenagers on a first date. She giggled and bit her lip, flushing even further. His eyes followed the redness as it traveled from her face down her neck, suddenly wishing he could see where it stopped.   
  


The flirtatious atmosphere came to a screeching halt as Rose’s eyes bulged and her hand flew to her stomach.   
  


“Oh!” Her mug fell to the table-top, tea splashing over the side.   
  


“What, what is it?” John fretted, scooting closer.   
  


She gasped again and her face lit up with a wide smile. “Oh, my God! You have to feel!”   
  


Before he could argue, Rose grabbed his hand and pushed it firmly on the side of her baby bump. He froze in bewilderment. At first, nothing happened, but then he felt it — tiny flutters against his palm. All the air left his lungs in a whoosh, no longer able to breathe.   
  


“Blimey, that’s weird. That’s the first kick!” Rose continued to beam at him. “Did you feel it?”   
  


All rational thought flew from his mind and he didn’t answer her. Instead, John shot up from the table and hobbled as fast as he could to the only available safe spot — the loo. He slammed and locked the door, then sank down on the closed toilet lid. Cradling his head in his hands, John took in deep lungfuls of air to calm himself down.   
  


He couldn’t handle this. He was  not prepared to be a father. Suddenly being a husband was terrifying enough. Adding a child to the mix threatened to break the composure he had desperately been trying to hold onto since he had first woken up in the hospital. Feeling the evidence of the tiny life inside her had just shattered any drop of sanity he had left.    
  


A quiet knock on the door interrupted his turmoil.   
  


“Doctor? M’sorry, I didn’t think... Can you come out?”   
  


He kept quiet, squeezing his eyes shut and willing her to go away.   
  


“Please?” Rose pleaded. “At least so I know you’re ok?”   
  


The silence stretched on as she waited for his voice.   
  


She sighed. “Ok, um, think I’ll go to bed. M’knackered... I really am sorry.”   
  


Her soft footfalls faded down the hall and then the bedroom door snicked shut.   
  


The tight feeling in John’s chest gradually subsided as he continued to breathe in solitude. He sat there long enough for his good leg to go slightly numb.   
  


He willed himself to be stronger. Rose didn’t deserve a husband who recoiled when he touched her stomach. She was such a lovely person, the best he had ever met, and he needed to be there for her. He had three doctorates! Facing the challenge of parenthood should be a cakewalk. There was nothing to fear here.   
  


Except losing his entire family, a family he didn’t even know he’d wanted. He had already lost his parents and suffered night terrors from the tragedy. If he lost Rose, he’d never survive.   
  


He took a few more calming breaths and stood, exiting the loo to shuffle down the hall to the bedroom. When he reached the door, he paused, preparing himself for her anger.   
  


“Rose?” John cautiously tapped on the wood, peaking into the open crack. “I’m sorry.”   
  


Muffled sniffles came from under a lump of covers. “S’alright.”   
  


“No, it’s really not. I’m bein’ a prat — a huge, giant prat, and you’re just tryin’ to help.” He leaned against the door jamb. “How can I make it up to you? Please let me make it up to you.”   
  


She was silent for a long moment before the crying intensified. “I just want my husband back.”   
  


He didn’t know how to respond to her, but his heart clenched at the pain he had caused.   
  


“Goodnight, John.” Her dismissal was nearly inaudible, but he clearly heard the lack of her usual, affectionate ‘Doctor.’   
  


Sighing heavily, he slowly walked back to his makeshift bed on the sofa. He had to fix this, but he didn’t know how.   
  


~*~   
  


When John woke the next morning, Rose was already gone. She must have left for work early to train her replacement. For the first time since he had returned home, he was alone. As used to solitude as he was (as far as  _ he _ knew), the emptiness should have been comforting. But it wasn’t — it was suffocating.    
  


With a weary sigh, John dropped his head into his hands, feeling horrible for making Rose cry. He needed to be a proper husband to her and learn to be a father for his child. Even though the past four years were a murky fog he was struggling to see through, one thing was crystal clear — he loved her. He felt it whenever she smiled, in the tiny butterflies in his chest and stomach whenever she was near. His entire body steeped in a warm, fuzzy happiness whenever he was granted the honor of simply holding her hand.   
  


He stood from the couch and limped to the bedroom. It was time for him to make a bigger effort to remember her or to at least learn every little thing about her all over again — he  yearned to know all of the mundane details that made up the incredible woman who, somehow, loved him back.    
  


As he surveyed the room, John noted most of his things were in familiar spots and not much had changed. There was a new, framed doctorate on the wall next to his side of the bed, physical evidence his dissertation had been a wild success. He crossed the carpet to the wardrobe, finding his normal jumpers and jeans, but the garments were now mixed with skirts and dresses.   
  


A pretty jewelry box on Rose’s nightstand caught his eye. Hoping she wouldn’t mind a bit of snooping, he opened the lid. It mainly consisted of earrings, a few necklaces, and his mother’s engagement ring.   
  


_ Wait, what?! _  He gaped at the glittering sapphire nestled in a tiny velvet pillow. What was his mother’s engagement ring doing there?    
  


John gasped.   
  


Because suddenly, he remembered.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Four years ago . . .   _   
  


John Smith hated shopping.   
  


The latest fashion trends were appalling and the retailers were overcharging the public for their dreadful garments. However, he was in desperate need of a respectable outfit to wear to his doctoral defense. After he’d begged for help, Jack had raided John’s entire wardrobe and declared it unfit for public consumption. So, after a strict warning from his best friend to avoid jumpers and jeans, John had been sent on a suit quest to Henrik’s.   
  


He was miserably flipping through dress shirts and trousers when he caught a glimpse of the last person on earth he had ever wanted to see again: Reinette Poisson, his ex-girlfriend. The vapid narcissist had strung him along with flattery and promises she had no intention of fulfilling. After she’d learned he wouldn’t be able to lavish her with gifts on his professor’s salary, she had tossed him aside for the next available suitor. John was ashamed he had let her toy with him for as long as she had simply because she had a pretty face - one that was rapidly heading towards him in the men’s department.   
  


Clutching one outfit to his chest, John dashed in the opposite direction. He rounded a corner, glancing briefly over his shoulder to see if the coast was clear when he barreled into an unseen display of mannequins. Legs and arms flew into the air as he tumbled into a sea of clothing and plastic faces.   
  


When the chaos settled, a feminine voice asked, “Are you alright, mate?”   
  


Disoriented, John blinked and turned his head to find a pair of caramel eyes staring at him, equally tangled in the now destroyed display. Before he could process the massacre he had caused, he flew back up to his feet to check on the location of his ex.   
  


“Bloody hell,” he swore under his breath as the devil woman spotted him.   
  


“Mate? Did you get hurt?” the voice asked again.   
  


Looking down, John discovered he had knocked over a small blonde girl in his hasty escape. He grabbed her hand, yanked her up, and shouted, “Run!”   
  


He dragged her full speed, winding and twisting through garment racks until he stumbled upon a suitable hiding spot — a changing room. He stuffed the blonde inside, crammed himself beside her, and slammed the lock.   
  


“Excu-!”   
  


“Shhhh!” John quickly clamped his hand over the girl’s mouth.   
  


She stared at him with wide, bewildered eyes but, thankfully, remained silent.   
  


“Hello?” a saccharine voice called out. “John? Was that you, my angel?”   
  


A rhythmic click-click of heels approached the changing rooms. For a few terrifying moments, he stared at the lock, fervently hoping he had successfully outrun her. As the sound of her posh footwear faded into the distance, he let out the breath he had been holding and removed his hand from the blonde’s mouth to run his palm down his face.   
  


John was startled to find a plastic arm clutched in his other hand.   
  


“You pulled an arm off,” observed the woman he had kidnapped.   
  


“Yeah, guess I did. Here ya go,” he tossed it to her, “armless.”   
  


She caught the limb and fixed him with a glare. “Who are you, then?”   
  


Still swimming with adrenaline from his getaway flight, John’s brain misfired and he said, “The Doctor.”   
  


Her nose wrinkled. “Yeah, but Doctor what?”   
  


“Just the Doctor.” It was technically true. He  _ did _ have two doctorates and was working on his third.    
  


“ _ The _ Doctor?”    
  


“Hello!” He waggled his fingers at her in a cheeky wave.   
  


The girl laughed and shook her head. “Is that supposed to sound impressive?”   
  


“Sort of.”   
  


Embarrassment washed over him now that the frenzy had subsided. He was talking nonsense to a stranger. A stranger he was rapidly observing as a gorgeous blonde woman — one he had knocked over and dragged into a cramped changing room. John gulped, ears burning red as he panicked and flung open the door.   
  


“Hold on a minute!” the girl cried and chased after him. “You can’t just go swannin’ off!”   
  


“Yes, I can! Here I am, this is me, swannin’ off. See ya!”   
  


John took off in another sprint, easily outrunning her. He paid for his one outfit and fled the store before she could find him.     
  


~*~   
  


Reluctantly, John marched into Henrik’s the next day, angrily muttering to himself about luck never being on his side. Not only had he made a fool of himself yesterday by knocking over humans and mannequins, the one ensemble he had managed to buy was the wrong size. He scowled all the way to the return’s department, keeping a wary eye out for the girl he had inadvertently attacked.   
  


As soon as he dumped the items on the counter, a familiar blonde head popped up from behind it.   
  


“What’re you doin’ here?” John exclaimed.   
  


Arching a brow, she pointed to the nametag on her blouse. “I work here.”   
  


“Well, what do you do that for?”   
  


“Cause I do.” She pressed her lips together in silent laughter. “So, can I help you?”   
  


“Right, ah...” he glanced at the name on her shiny Henrick’s badge, “Rose. I seem to have purchased the wrong size.”   
  


Rose hummed and crossed her arms over her chest, piercing him with a critical gaze.“Was that before or after you came at me like a ragin’ bull in a china shop?”   
  


“You were just an accident!” He mirrored her defensive stance. “You got in the way, that’s all.”   
  


“I think you tried to kill me.” She pointed an accusing finger at his face.   
  


“Look, she was after me, not you!” He threw his arms up, eager to move past their awkward first encounter. “Yesterday, here in the shop, I was runnin’ away when you blundered in and almost ruined the whole thing!”   
  


“So, the entire world revolves around you?”   
  


“Sort of, yeah.”   
  


“You’re full of it.”   
  


“Sort of, yeah.”   
  


“Riiiight,” she drawled and then smiled brightly at him. “Fancy some chips?”   
  


He blinked in confusion. “What?”   
  


“Chips? Least you can do after nearly killin’ me is buy me some chips.”   
  


Flustered, John patted his jacket pockets, frowning when he discovered he had forgotten his wallet. “No money.”   
  


“What sort of date are you?” she teased and rounded the counter, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the exit. “Come on then, tightwad, chips are on me. Shifts over and the shop’s about to close.”   
  


_ Date _ ? Perplexed but bizarrely intrigued, John allowed Rose to lead him to a nearby chippy. She talked his ear off the entire way but all he could manage to do was stare at their joined hands.    
  


When they were seated with steaming baskets of food, John realized he had never made his return. But then Rose moaned as she bit into a large spear of fried potato and he forgot all about his ill-fitting garments.   
  


“So…um…” For several moments, all he could do was gape dumbly at her, all logical thought having flown out the proverbial window. “Why are we on a date?”   
  


Rose shrugged and smiled shyly at him. “I think you’re cute.”   
  


Baffled, he pointed his fork at his chest. “Me?”   
  


She giggled, another alluring sound to add to her repertoire, and nodded. “Yes,  _ you _ .  Most girls wait their whole lives to be swept off their feet by a handsome bloke.” Her tongue poked through her smile and John nearly choked on the bit of starch in his mouth. “Although, you might want to work on your sweepin’ skills. You knocked me flat on my bum.”    
  


He laughed. “Maybe knockin’ over is a better skill for me. Then you can’t run away from me ears.”   
  


Her eye wandered over him appraisingly and her grin widened, tongue curling around her tooth again. “I like the ears.”   
  


Flabbergasted, John tucked back into his meal, wondering if luck was on his side after all.   
  


~*~   
  


John hadn’t been to a park since he was a little boy, but Rose had convinced him to meet her the next night at a local playground. After he had talked at length about space on their first date, she had demanded he prove his vast expertise of the universe by naming every star in the sky. While he may have exaggerated the number of star names he knew, John couldn’t pass up a chance to see Rose again.   
  


Their meal at the chippy hadn’t been very long, but it had been enough time for him to fall thoroughly arse over elbow for her. She was funny, witty, endlessly kind and, for some reason, found him attractive. Unlike other dates in the past, she was genuinely interested in the things he had to say and didn’t find his bookish knowledge tedious or boring.   
  


They were lazily swinging and looking up in the night when he ran out of constellations and launched into his time travel theories.   
  


“You think you’re so impressive,” Rose teased.   
  


“I am so impressive!” he balked, stopping himself mid-swing.   
  


“You wish!” She smiled cheekily at him and dug her heels into the dirt to halt her momentum.   
  


“Right then, you asked for it.”   
  


Acting impulsively, John grabbed the chains on Rose’s swing, hauling her closer to cover her mouth with his. For a few heart-stopping moments, she froze, but then relaxed and wrapped her arms around his neck. His belly swooped as their lips moved leisurely, exploring one another for the very first time.   
  


He slowly pulled back before he got carried away by her addictive taste and rested his forehead against hers. She looked absolutely stunning in the moonlight — eyes closed, cheeks flushed, and lips a delicious shade of pink. Grinning like mad, John cradled the side of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair, and sought one more sweet kiss. Her breathing quickened and she whimpered softly when he finally released her.   
  


“W-well,” Rose cleared her throat, voice low and husky, “guess you are impressive after all, Doctor.”   
  


They chatted quietly as he walked her home, holding her hand the entire way. As they reached her flat, he was about to lean in for a goodnight kiss when the front door flew open. John sprang away from Rose, blinking in shock at the older blonde woman that had suddenly appeared in the doorway.   
  


“Where have you been?!” she shrieked at Rose. “Gone twelve hours — no note, no phone call, not even a bleedin’ text! And here you are, walztin’ in at three in the mornin’!”   
  


“Sorry, Mum, guess I forgot,” Rose apologized and then pointed to John. “This is the Doctor.”   
  


“Doctor?” The older woman narrowed her eyes at him.   
  


“Yes, sorry.” John smiled, attempting to soothe her ruffled feathers. “My real name is John. You must be Mrs. Tyler. Lovely to meet you.” He stuck his hand out for a shake but she only glared at him harder. “It’s my fault she’s late. I was teachin’ Rose about the stars and lost track of the time.”   
  


“Oh, I bet you taught her alright!” she scoffed. “How old are you? Did you go online and pretend you’re a doctor?”   
  


“I am a doctor!”   
  


“Prove it. Stitch this, mate!”   
  


She reared back and slapped him hard across the face. As John cradled his wounded cheek, gaping in shock at the woman, she yelled at Rose to be inside in five minutes and then slammed the door shut.   
  


“She slapped you!” Rose exclaimed, examining his face with concern.   
  


“I don’t think I’ve ever been slapped by someone’s mother!”   
  


“I’m so sorry.” She tenderly rubbed a thumb over the wound. “Past experience has her slappin’ first and askin’ questions later.”   
  


“Past experience?”   
  


“I’ll tell you another time.” She sighed and then, out of nowhere, started giggling.   
  


“What?”   
  


“She slapped you!” Her giggles morphed into loud laughter.   
  


“It hurt!” he whined.   
  


“Your face!” she teased.   
  


Smiling wide in amusement, she lifted up on her toes and placed a soft kiss on his flaming cheek. Then, she grabbed the lapels of his leather jacket to yank him to her for a deep, wet snog.   
  


“Rose!” boomed a voice from behind the door.   
  


Rose released him with a smack. “See ya later, Doctor.”   
  


John watched in a daze as she darted inside the flat. He had no idea what had just happened, but if it resulted in him getting snogged then he didn’t care.   
  


~*~   
  


Several weeks later, John and Rose walked along the street, hands swinging between them. John had successfully defended his thesis and received his third doctorate. After a celebratory meal of chips, Rose insisted on going dancing.   
  


“C’mon, I love dancin’!” She tugged excitedly on his leather jacket.   
  


“Not one for dancin’, me.” John just wanted to go back to his flat for a quiet evening in of telly (and maybe a snog).   
  


“Pretty please?” Rose pouted and batted her lashes around wide, pleading eyes.   
  


Having learned quickly that he could deny her nothing, John caved and they met up with Jack at a nearby pub. Rose hadn’t met Jack yet, and John was slightly nervous to introduce his girlfriend to his playboy best friend.   
  


“John! Over here!” Jack bellowed and waved frantically over the crowd from the bar, mouth curving into a cheeky grin as they approached. “Who’s the lovely lady?”   
  


“This is Rose.” John smiled politely but kept a possessive arm wrapped around her waist.   
  


“Nice to meet you, Rose. Jack Harkness.” He slid his palm along Rose’s hand for a shake and then, just to make John’s blood boil, he threw her a wink.   
  


“Hands off the blonde,” John chastised as Rose giggled at the man’s flirtatious behavior.   
  


“I was just saying hello.” Jack laughed and turned to order them a round of pints.   
  


“Nice to meet you, Jack.” Rose looked at John with an expectant smile. “C’mon, Doctor! Show me your moves!”   
  


She grabbed his hand and dragged him onto the dance floor, squeezing through the bodies swaying intimately together. John normally loathed dancing, having no rhythm in his bones. However, he wasn’t about to object to any activity that involved Rose winding her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him.   
  


“Does Jack bother you?” Rose asked as she led his awkward feet in the slow number.   
  


“No. He’s just, ya know, pretty. Women usually ignore me in favor of him. M’afraid he’ll steal you away,” he confessed.   
  


“Why would he steal me away?”   
  


“Well, look at me.” He pointed to his face. “Wouldn’t you rather be with one of these pretty boys here?”   
  


Scrunching her nose, she glanced at the other men in the area. “Most definitely  _ not _ .”    
  


“Why’s that then?”   
  


Her arms tightened around him and she smiled — the wonderful, bright one where her tongue poked between her lips, causing a flutter in his belly he was helpless to stop.   
  


“Because…” she paused, suddenly unsure of herself. “I know it’s only been a few weeks but… I’ve fallen in love with you.”   
  


He nearly stepped on her toes. “What?”   
  


“I love you,” she repeated louder. “That alright?”   
  


Much like it had when he’d first met her, John’s brain misfired. Instead of telling her he had loved her from the moment he’d taken her hand, he dumbly said, “Why?”   
  


“You’re the first bloke I ever met to treat me like I matter, to actually listen when I talk.” Her eyes shined with unshed tears, assuming he was trying to reject her, but she soldiered on. “You don’t care that I work in a shop even though you’re this clever doctor three times over. I should be the one asking  _ you _ ‘why?’.”    
  


“But you’re brilliant.” He halted their dance and lifted his hands to cradle her cheeks. “You’re gorgeous and warm and funny… and I love you, too.”   
  


She sniffled and wiped a finger under her wet lashes. “Really?”   
  


“Absolutely.”   
  


John kissed her sweetly, thanking his lucky stars for the matchmaking skills of shop-window dummies. Other couples bumped into his back as they stood like a statue in the middle of the dance floor, so Rose pressed tighter against him, refusing to put an inch between them. When the demand for air overtook the need to be attached to her lips, he pulled away and tucked her head under his chin.   
  


She sighed and nuzzled her nose into his neck. “Say it again.”   
  


John chuckled lightly, grinning like a loon. “I love you.”   
  


“I love you, too.”   
  


Needing to freshen up, Rose excused herself to the loo and John floated on air back to the bar. Jack eyed him curiously.   
  


“Did I hear Rose call you ‘Doctor’?” he asked.   
  


“Maybe. Why?”   
  


“It’s cute.” Jack shrugged and took a swig from his beer. “Don’t let her go.”   
  


“Don’t plan on it, me,” John vowed.   
  


“I’ve never seen you this happy, Doc.”   
  


He fought a smile. “Don’t call me ‘Doc’.”   
  


“Sure thing, Doc.”   
  


~*~   
  


_ Fire.   _ _   
  
_

_ Flames licked his skin. Smoke clogged his nostrils. He struggled to draw a breath, lungs seared by the hot ash swirling in the air.   _ _   
  
_

_ He screamed and lashed out, desperately trying to reach the body on the floor. But it was too late. The putrid smell of cooked flesh seeped into his nose and he fell, hacking violently.   _ _   
  
_

_ Hands suddenly clutched his shoulders and he ripped them away, throwing the invader into the wall.  _   
  


A panicked shriek forced John out of his nightmare and he bolted upright.   
  


“Ow,” whined a voice from the floor.   
  


“Rose?!”   
  


John tossed the covers aside and flew to the other side of the bed. He gasped in a strangled breath as he discovered Rose sprawled out in a heap on the floor, rubbing her hip and grimacing in pain.   
  


“Blimey, that’ll leave a mark." She winced as she tried to sit up.   
  


“I’m sorry!” He carefully assisted her back into bed, apologizing profusely.   
  


“M’alright, Doctor,” she assured him, looking over him worriedly. “What about you? Are you ok?”   
  


“Am  _ I _ ok?! I just flung you off the bed!”    
  


Rose had moved in a few nights ago, which was the best thing that had ever happened to him. However, she’d had to witness his night terrors. Most of the time, he woke up before causing a panic. But sometimes, like tonight, he reacted violently. John ran his fingers through Rose’s hair, distressed that she had gotten caught in his crosshairs, and examined every square inch of her. He frowned at the bruise forming on her hip, but she was otherwise unscathed.   
  


“Hey.” Rose caught his hands and cradled them in her lap. “I’m  _ fine _ . D’you want to talk about it? I could make tea? Tea cures everything.”    
  


He smiled softly and kissed her temple. “Sure, love.”   
  


John held her hand all the way to the kitchen, still fretting over her injury, and opened the cabinet by the fridge to pull down his tea-making supplies.   
  


“Wouldn’t it be easier to have all that by the sink? Right by the kettle and water?” Rose suggested, taking a seat at the table.   
  


“Huh.” He glanced from the sink back to the cabinet in front of him. “That’s a good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”   
  


“Are you sure you have three doctorates?”   
  


“Oi!” he feigned indignation as she curled a teasing tongue around her tooth.   
  


As soon as the tea was ready, John fixed their mugs and sat beside her. Rose blew a cooling breath across her beverage, rippling the water, and took a cautious sip. After she swallowed, she licked her lips. He watched in fascination as she repeated the adorable action, taking a taste and swiping her tongue to catch the extra drops.   
  


Unable to resists himself, John pressed his lips to hers before she could lick them again, sampling the tea remnants for himself.   
  


She giggled when he pulled away. “What was that for?”   
  


“Because I love you,” he declared, leaning in for another tea-soaked kiss. “And because you are ridiculously adorable when you drink tea.”   
  


They sat in companionable silence for a while longer until his drink had gone cold and he was ready to talk.   
  


“My parents died in a fire,” John confessed softly.   
  


“Oh, Doctor, I’m so sorry.” Rose wrapped her arms around his body and squeezed in comfort.   
  


“It was my fault. I got angry and stormed out of the house.” He balled his fists on the table, reliving the nightmarish day. “The fire spread so fast… by the time I got back, they were gone. I never should have left. I could have saved them."   
  


John choked back a sob and Rose clutched him tighter, pressing kisses to his crown as he whimpered in her arms.   
  


“It is  _ not _ your fault,” she insisted. “You can’t blame yourself.”    
  


“Still feel guilty, me.” He sighed and reigned in his tears, suddenly feeling embarrassed by the emotional display. “As you can see, it gives me panic attacks and nightmares. You’re probably better off not havin’ to deal with this. M’damaged goods,” he mumbled and pulled away from her arms. “I don’t deserve you.”   
  


Instead of running away, Rose surprised him by sliding on his lap and winding her arms around his waist so she could rest her head over his heart. She stayed in that position for several minutes, simply listening to the echo of the beats in his chest and stroking her fingers in a soothing pattern along his forearm.   
  


Finally, she looked up at him. “M’not goin’ anywhere. You’ll have to kick me off.”   
  


He chuckled, amazed he hadn't managed to scare her. “Guess you're stayin’ there forever then.”   
  


“Yup.” She playfully popped the “p” and snuggled herself against him once more.   
  


After placing several thankful kisses on Rose's hair, John swaddled his arms securely around her. He glanced around his flat, marveling over how it felt like home for the first time.   
  


~*~   
  


After only nine glorious months of dating Rose Tyler, John knew he wanted to marry her. He had never envisioned a life with a wife, but she had erased his distaste for domestics. Shopping on a Sunday afternoon? As long as he could hold Rose’s hand, he’d follow her to any shop she wanted. Watching a film on telly? He didn’t care how tawdry the program was so long as Rose cuddled up to his side. Arguing over whether chips should be drowned in vinegar? He’d argue all night long if it meant Rose would win by peeling her clothes off.   
  


He used to think all those little things were mundane distractions from his important research — perhaps he had just been waiting for her.   
  


Working at the university had its perks, so John had arranged for them to have the planetarium to themselves for the evening. They had stopped by their favorite chippy to get dinner and had eaten the simple meal on a blanket spread under the stars.   
  


After setting the controls to display a meteor shower, John and Rose laid flat on their back, side by side, and laced their fingers together. Every few moments, John glanced at her from the corner of his eye, fiddling with the box in his pocket.   
  


Finally gathering the courage, John squeezed her hand. “Rose?”   
  


“Yeah?”   
  


“How long are you gonna stay with me?”   
  


She shifted to look at him, smile stretching across her face. “Forever.”   
  


He swallowed and pulled in a shaky breath. “Will you marry me?”   
  


“What?” she squeaked, sitting up straight.   
  


“This was my mother’s.” With trembling fingers, he pulled the box from his trousers and opened it to show her the ring inside. “My parents would have loved you. And I love you with all my heart.” He plucked the sapphire from its holder and held it out to her. “Will you be my wife?”   
  


Rose blinked rapidly as she stared at the ring in front of her nose. “Really?”   
  


“Yes, really, you gorgeous, brilliant woman.”   
  


She squealed and launched herself on top of him, pressing her mouth firmly against his to snog him breathless.   
  


After placing several quick kisses on her lips, John reluctantly pulled away with a husky chuckle. “You still haven’t answered me.”   
  


“Yes, of course, yes!” Happy tears leaked from her eyes as he slid the ring onto her finger. “It’s beautiful.”   
  


“Not as beautiful as you.”   
  


Her tongue poked through her teeth and she looped her arms around his neck. John angled his head to capture her smile, laying her down on the blanket to celebrate under the stars.   
  


~*~   
  


A bright flash momentarily blinded John as he gazed at his new bride. Rose looked positively radiant in her dress, arm curled around his waist while they posed for the photographer. She hadn’t stopped grinning like a loon at him all day.   
  


“Have I ever told you how much I love your smile?” he asked, sweeping a stray hair back over her shoulder. “It’s beautiful.”   
  


“S’just a normal smile,” she demurred.   
  


“It’s not,” he protested, shifting to gaze at her fully. “When you smile, it’s like all of the clouds have parted and the sun is shinin’ on me. Your smile alone has slain all my demons and made me better. But you not only share your luminous grin with me, you’ve also gifted me your heart and your love. I’m the luckiest man alive.”   
  


Rose sniffed back tears of joy and beamed even brighter. “I love you.”   
  


“I love you, too." John gave her his daftest grin, then dipped her over his arm and kissed the smile off her face.   
  


They forgot about the photographer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Description of child-birth in this chapter, but it's nothing explicit

_ Present day . . .   _   
  


John stumbled into the nightstand as four years of memories unlocked and flooded his brain. Everything he had forgotten about Rose, every precious little detail, had returned.   
  


Her favorite film was “Wall-E”, she loved purple, and drenched her chips in vinegar. She had a ratty old t-shirt she slept in when sick, the freckles on her thigh were arranged like the Pleiades star cluster, and she still had the teddy bear her father had bought when she was born. She couldn’t fall asleep without slathering her elbows in lavender body lotion or before kissing him goodnight. She wanted time to paint again, she felt guilty for wanting to be being a stay-at-home mum, and she wanted a boy — a little blonde-haired, blue-eyed version of the two of them.   
  


“Rose!” John bellowed in the empty flat. He stuffed the ring in his pocket and scrambled to balance himself on his crutches as he lumbered out of the bedroom.   
  


He had to see her.  _ Now _ . How had his magnificent mind ever managed to erase the most important part of his life? In his confusion, he’d rejected his own child and been an unforgivable git to her, needlessly losing his temper several times. How could she ever forgive him? He'd even taken his ring off and practically chucked it at her!    
  


Blinking back tears of guilt, John located his mobile on the coffee table and dialed her — it went straight to voicemail.   
  


“Bloody hell!” he angrily cursed and scrolled through his contacts to call Jack.   
  


“Hello, Doc!” Jack greeted brightly. “How's the leg?”   
  


“I need a lift,” John demanded without preamble.   
  


“To where?”   
  


“To Rose!”   
  


“She’s not there?”   
  


“Are you bein’ deliberately thick?”   
  


“I’m just enjoyin’ the foreplay.” Jack laughed, ignorant of his dilemma. “Do you need the lift now?”   
  


“Yes,  _ now _ !”  John barked. “I forgot her!”    
  


“You remembered?”   
  


“Yes!”   
  


The sound of a car door slamming rattled the speaker. “Be ready.”   
  


Jack hung up and John threw his mobile on the sofa, hobbling back to the bedroom to change his top. By the time he had pulled on a clean jumper, he heard Jack's car screech to a stop outside. Three rapid horn honks pierced the air as John limped out the front door. He stuffed himself, his crutches, and his injured leg into Jack's sporty coupe.   
  


“That was bloody fast!” John remarked, wincing when the seatbelt squeezed his still-tender ribs.   
  


“I was in the area. Besides, I’m quick when I want to be.” Jack threw him a cheeky wink and peeled into traffic.   
  


“I’ll bet you are.”   
  


“So, where to?”   
  


“The university."   
  


John impatiently drummed his fingers on his thigh, brainstorming a way to apologize to his wife. As he fidgeted, his pinky brushed a bump in his trousers. He carefully pulled out Rose’s engagement ring, having forgotten he'd slipped the band into his pocket. Since it was a precious family heirloom, she tended to wear it on special occasions only. He'd told her not to worry, that his mother would have forgiven her if it was accidentally lost, but Rose had insisted on keeping it safely tucked in her jewelry box.   
  


An idea popped into his head. “On second thought, Jack, we have a stop to make first.”   
  


“Aye, aye, Doc!” Jack grinned and maneuvered the car towards the location John provided.   
  


“I hate when you call me ‘Doc’,” John grumbled.   
  


“Why else would I do it?”   
  


~*~   
  


John fiddled with the controls in the planetarium and glanced anxiously at the door every half a second. He had asked Jack to find Rose and think of a clever way to send her to him, hoping to surprise her. The seconds crept by as he waited and wiped his sweaty palms repeatedly on his trousers.   
  


“Hello?”   
  


His stomach clenched as Rose walked in, clearly confused to be in the planetarium. But she quickly spotted him and froze in her tracks.   
  


“John?” she warily asked.   
  


Unbelievably happy to have every moment with his wife restored, he grinned and limped toward her. “About four years ago, I knocked you over. Terribly rude, me. But then I took your hand and told you to run. Best decision of my life.”   
  


Tears sprang to her eyes and she ran to meet him halfway. One of his crutches clattered to the ground when he wound one arm around her, clinging to her as tightly as his bruised ribs would allow. She immediately pressed her face into his neck, struggling to breathe through chest-heaving sobs.   
  


“Oh, Rose.” He peppered the top of her hair with kisses, wishing he could properly wrap both arms around her. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”   
  


“W-why are you s-sorry?” she blubbered. Struggling to rein in her tears, she raised her head to look at him. “You were in an accident! I almost lost—” The words died on her tongue and her face crumpled, succumbing to more anguished sobs.   
  


John cradled her head to his chest and shushed her quietly, murmuring words of comfort. Mindful of his leg, he gently coaxed her to sit with him on the floor and cuddled her against his side. As Rose quieted, he laid a palm on the swell of her belly, rubbing in slow circles to greet his little one.   
  


A lone tear trickled along John's nose as he felt gentle, butterfly kicks. “Did you find out...that day…Boy or girl?”   
  


She laid her hand over his, threading their fingers together over the tiny life inside. “Boy.”   
  


Smiling like a loon, John angled his head to press his lips to hers, uncaring of the wetness on their cheeks. Rose lifted her hand to grip his neck and pull him closer. They kissed softly for several minutes, neither one wanting to relinquish their hold on the other. But guilt still consumed John’s heart and he released her lips to rest his forehead on hers.   
  


“I forgot you,” he brokenly whispered.   
  


“It’s ok,” Rose insisted. She pressed her fingers to his mouth to halt his oncoming protest. “If you’d never remembered, you would’ve just gotten to know me again. And the memories you’d lost? They were never gone — I would’ve always remembered for the both of us.”   
  


Overwhelmed by her devotion, John captured her lips again, pouring every ounce of love he held in his heart into the kiss. He trailed nibbles along her jaw then her neck and rested his head on her shoulder with a weary sigh. Rose carded her fingers through his hair, offering him comfort he didn’t feel he deserved.   
  


“I don’t know how to make it up to you,” he mumbled. “I was a complete and utter arse.”   
  


“You don’t have to do anything. Havin’ you back is enough for me.”   
  


“Not for me. I got you something on the way here.” John straightened and reached into his pocket to pull out a new jewelry box. Rose’s eyes widened as he popped open the lid, presenting her engagement ring to her on a delicate, silver chain. “I know you’re nervous to have this on your finger. But I thought, if it were on a necklace, you could wear it every day without havin’ to worry as much.” Her eyes watered again as he held it up and gently clasped it around her neck. “Plus, now it’s over your heart — where it belongs.”   
  


Sniffling, Rose touched the ring resting on her chest and cupped his cheek with her other hand, thumb sweeping tenderly along his skin. “I love you.”   
  


“I love you, too.” John took her hand and kissed her palm, fingers brushing against his ring still stowed on her thumb. He frowned and cradled her hand in his lap. “I mean it — I’ll do  anything . We can go anywhere, travel wherever you’d like. I’ll buy you anything you want. D’you want to renew our vows? I’ll put on the monkey suit again and—”    
  


“Would you hush?” she cut him off with a watery laugh and removed the band from her finger. “All I need is for you to put this back on.”   
  


With a daft grin, he eagerly slid his ring in its rightful place, heart soaring as Rose beamed at him. “That’s better! I love it when you smile — you’re my little ray of sunshine.”   
  


She laughed and laid a palm on her tummy. “You’re about to have another.”   
  


“Fantastic,” he declared, sealing his mouth over hers once more.   
  


~*~   
  


_ Four months later. . . _   
  


John’s leg jiggled up and down, unable to calm himself as he sat by Rose’s hospital bed. Her water had broken in the middle of the night and they had been instructed to check into the hospital shortly after. Over twenty-four hours later, Rose was still in labor and beyond exhausted. She had attempted to forgo pain medicine but had caved at hour fifteen and begged for an epidural. Now, she was resting more comfortably but her progress was miserably slow.   
  


The obstetrician knocked on the door and entered with a warm smile. “Hello again. Just going to do a check.”

 

Rose nodded wearily, used to the routine exam, and clutched John’s hand. He kissed her palm and threaded their fingers, desperately wishing he could help her in some way. There weren’t many situations in life where he felt useless, but this was one of him. He’d give anything to be able to do this for her, to ease her discomfort.   
  


The doctor frowned as she performed a quick pelvic assessment. John’s stomach dropped and he tightened his hold on Rose’s hand.   
  


“I’m afraid you’re still only at seven centimeters and zero station.” The doctor discarded her gloves and pulled a chair closer to Rose’s bedside. “You’ve been stuck there for hours. You should be in active labor by now, progressing  _ much _ faster, but you’re just not getting there. At this point, I’d recommend a Caesarean.”    
  


Rose whimpered and sagged further down the stiff mattress. “Please, just get him out of me. I’m so tired.”   
  


The doctor nodded and left to make preparations. Everything happened very quickly from that point forward. Before he could blink, John was handed a pair of scrubs and Rose was wheeled away to the operating room. He hastily yanked on the drab garments and followed the nurse to his wife’s side. Rose was barely coherent and nearly delirious in her exhaustion, but she still managed a relieved smile when she saw him through the small crowd around the operating table.   
  


“Doctor?” Rose croaked.   
  


“Right here, love.” John sat on the tiny stool by her head and pressed a kiss to her sweaty temple.   
  


He put on a brave front for her benefit, but he was silently panicking. Even though the procedure was common, there was a risk to any surgery. Rose looked so tiny and frail, swallowed by the numerous tubes, wires, and coverings. This must have been similar to what he’d looked like to her months ago when he’d woken in his hospital bed, completely confused by the machines attached to his body. She’d been so strong then, putting up with a husband that had yelled at her and forgotten who she was — he  had to be strong for her now, after everything he’d put her through.    
  


“Is he here yet?” Rose asked anxiously. Her entire body shivered violently from head to toe, a side-effect of the anesthetic.   
  


John placed a calming hand on her shoulder, attempting to suppress her tremors. “Almost. Any moment now.” He observed the doctor performing the surgery and described each step to her.   
  


Finally, after forty-one weeks, one day, seven hours, and twenty minutes of waiting, the wailing cries of their newborn son filled the room. Rose laughed as she could hear but not see him and sobbed tears of joy. John watched in a daze as the wiggling baby was taken by another doctor to be assessed and cleaned.   
  


As the surgeon continued to operate on Rose, a nurse wrapped their son in a blanket and laid him on his mother’s chest. As soon as the little one felt Rose’s skin, he immediately stopped crying, blinking startled blue eyes at her. John gazed in wonder at his son and gently stroked a finger over his impossibly tiny hand.   
  


“Oh, he’s so cute,” Rose cooed, more alert than she'd been in hours, and lifted her head to peck his teeny nose.   
  


Everything John cherished most in this world was right in front of him. A fierce wave of love and protective instinct flooded his veins as he kissed first his son’s then his wife's brow. Overcome with emotion, his eyes blurred with tears and he swiped a thumb under his lashes with a loud sniff.   
  


“Alright, love?” Rose asked, beaming brightly at him.   
  


He matched her smile and grasped her hand, twining their fingers. “Perfect.”   
  


~*~   
  


_ Two weeks later… _   
  


Rose sighed and ran a comb through her wet hair. Personal time for showering had been put on the back burner with an infant in the house. After she had complained about feeling manky, John had shooed her to the loo, insisting he’d put their son, James Peter Smith, to sleep.   
  


She climbed into bed, hoping to get a few hours of rest before the baby was up again. However, soft singing caught her attention as she settled under the covers.   
  


“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey….”   
  


Rose slipped out of bed and tiptoed down the hall to the nursery. She poked her head in and smiled at the adorable sight before her. John was in the middle of the room, singing and spinning in a slow circle, dancing their son to sleep instead of rocking him.   
  


“You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” John ended the song and kissed James’ sleepy forehead. “When you're bigger, your ol’ Da will teach you how to dance with a lovely lady. Music and dancin’ — no better way to fall in love.”   
  


After placing one last kiss on James’ temple, John laid him down in his crib. He turned and smiled shyly as he noticed Rose watching him.   
  


“Aren't you supposed to be sleepin’?” he whispered and gently closed the nursery door.   
  


Rose shrugged. “I heard singin’. I've never heard you sing.”   
  


“Well, I've got the notes but I wouldn't want to boast.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and ushered her back to their bedroom.   
  


“By the way, m’pretty sure it was  _ me _ that taught  _ you _ how to dance.”    
  


“Are you sayin’ I don't have the moves?”   
  


“You've got moves?” Rose teased and spun out of his arms, holding her hand out in invitation. “Show me your moves.”   
  


With a confident smirk, John grasped her fingers and tugged, effortlessly twirling her back into his embrace. He hummed a tune while he led her in a simple waltz around the bedroom and Rose giggled when he dipped her over his arm.   
  


“Ok, you've got the moves!” Cheeks flushed, she beamed as he pulled her back up. “But I should really go to bed now.”   
  


“Want me to sing you to sleep, too?” he offered.   
  


With a jaw-cracking yawn, Rose shook her head and crawled back in bed. “You don't have to do that, but I could use a cuddle.”   
  


John slid under the covers and snuggled up to her back, laying an arm over her waist. As she wiggled to find a cozy spot, he found her hand and knitted their fingers together. He treasured every little moment he had with his tiny family, moments like these where he delighted in the simple pleasure of holding his wife as she drifted to sleep. It was hard to believe that not long ago, due to memories reluctantly forgotten, he had been terrified of this exact situation — a situation he wouldn’t trade for the world. Utterly besotted with the woman in his arms and his son down the hall, he pressed a goodnight kiss on Rose's cheek.   
  


“Love you,” she murmured.   
  


“Love you, too.” Even though she had deemed it unnecessary, John sang softly in her ear, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr: thebadwolfgeek.tumblr.com


End file.
